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Literature Text
your fragrance lingers
in the room though you’ve
been gone for hours
I should get up, shower,
start my day, but I’m loathe
to wash you from my skin
so I turn back into warm blankets
and drift in night-scented
dreams of you
in the room though you’ve
been gone for hours
I should get up, shower,
start my day, but I’m loathe
to wash you from my skin
so I turn back into warm blankets
and drift in night-scented
dreams of you
Literature
Preguntas
Preguntas
What comes next is a kind of answer -
an uncoiling of sounds something like marrow
seeping from a voice asleep by the river
where green bands of parrots press
to eat the salty earth - a voice under the roots
of a walking palm, speaking its whispers
about Neruda and how Neruda will
make a voice pregnant with questions
hidden as the nest of the yellow bird
and the life of bones. The mouth goes
numb; a bottle falls. Two horses move away
into mountain shadow, walking the quiet
of the stony slopes. Is there nobody
here? Is there still nobody here?
Literature
and you and you and you
what's trying to spill out of me
is all this emptiness
all this
peculiar nothing
someday
you too
will be swallowed
Literature
the same.
i told you that you
could never love me
because
your heart is wonderfully
whole
and
mine is
shredded
into pieces that
no one will ever
want. you smiled and
took out your heart
and
ripped it into
pieces that match
mine.
you said you could
love me because
we are
the same, now.
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Inspired by ~xAdian's An Afterthought.
© 2008 - 2024 Blueskye27
Comments59
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my favorite thing ever is the lingering smell. LOVE it.